


Trying for More

by dogmatix, norcumi



Series: Unintended Consequences [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, GFY, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the last months before Obi-Wan Kenobi was declared Missing In Action, he and Rex had only seen each other briefly, in passing on various battlefields. Their last actual encounter was almost four months before that horrible day.</p><p>Rex always looked back at it with deep fondness and a touch of wry embarrassment. Even in his life, it wasn’t every day he had a building AND a Jedi coming down on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying for More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morgynleri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/gifts).



> A [Christmas prompt](http://norcumi.tumblr.com/post/103600298524/who-wants-a-christmas-gift) (er…awkwardly later than intended). [Morgynleri](http://morgynleri.tumblr.com/) requested “Rex/Obi-Wan, a bad day, a pilot’s seat, and sex. Because that pairing looks interesting.”
> 
> It’s not 100% what I first thought of when I mentioned the oddest place those two have had sex, but it worked out well anyways. I hope your holidays were awesome, and many thanks for your patience!
> 
> Music was [Angel with a Shotgun](http://youtu.be/hn5A4JQs6m8). Like, a LOT.

Rex slumped down in the pilot’s seat of the Twilight, scrubbing a hand over his face and hoping that they were finally clear.  _What a cluster_ , he groaned to himself, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes for a moment. The longer the war dragged on, the more he thought he’d seen it all, but the last few months had been brutal. He’d already heard the holonet calling it the Outer Rim Surge, predicting that this was it, the war was ending.

Banthashit. It felt like a feint to him. Admittedly, limping back to Coruscant after another stalemate battle could be a significant influence, but he didn’t think that was all there was to it.

The door to the cockpit hissed open, then General Kenobi’s hand settled lightly on his head. Rex went still, eyes remaining closed as he struggled to breathe past the lump in his throat. Going weeks without seeing each other had become all too common lately. Even when they did meet, it was often in the line of duty, while in battle or possibly in the aftermath, lasting just long enough to exchange a few notes on troops and strategy, before leaving for the next battle.

It had been months now, since Obi-Wan had asked him if he wanted to have an actual, non-clandestine relationship. For all that, to have a simple, gentle gesture like this, in a place where General Skywalker might see – it was thrilling, it was terrifying, and it was far more arousing than he’d expected.

Rex stirred himself from the warm languor that Obi-Wan's simple touch created, tilting a little to nestle against the caress. He looked up, meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. The Jedi had a gentle smile for him, before leaning down into a kiss. This was one of the tender ones; long, sweet, and possessive. On the rare occasions that Obi-Wan did this, it always left Rex feeling like munitions were going off inside him, fogging his mind and making his body tingle all over. Obi-Wan finally pulled back, but not very far.

“Stop having buildings fall on you,” the Jedi murmured.

No matter how damn thoroughly he might have been kissed, Rex wasn’t about to let that go. “Stop getting shot, especially for me or General Skywalker.” Rex blinked rapidly, struggling to reconnect his brain to give his Jedi the glare he deserved. At least Obi-Wan looked contrite, even if it there were traces of amusement in his eyes. “If I ever find out you’ve pulled another Hardeen, never mind if it’s  _weeks_  after the mess has cleared out,  _I’ll_  be the one shooting at you.” It had been hellish; coming back from a long slog through a swamp planet, where the endless rain cut off everything but local communications, only to find Obi-Wan had been assassinated, yet not, and had actually been undercover as his murderer, all in some complicated plot to keep the Chancellor safe.

They didn’t have much in the way of arguments, but that one had been surprisingly loud and furious.

“I did say I was sorry.” Obi-Wan’s tone was mild, yet his expression was deeply apologetic. “If communications had been open, I would have--”

“Doesn’t. Matter.  _Don’t._ ” Rex twisted around to snag the Jedi and pull him closer, arms looped around the General’s waist and nuzzling into the coarse tunics. Obi-Wan hummed and leaned forward into the embrace, but a moment later pulled back with an annoyed expression.

“Oh for – Not again!”

Ob– Kenobi had his tunics tugged straight and his frown firmly in place by the time General Skywalker swaggered into the cockpit. Rex’s General leaned up against the doorway in what he obviously thought was a casual pose. “So. Where’re we headed?”

“Home,” Kenobi sighed curtly, hustling over to him. “We’re going back to Coruscant.”

General Skywalker blinked. “We just came from there.”

“No, for what is now the  _fifth_  time, we are coming from a nasty little battle, on a nasty little backwater planet.”

“...oh. Did we win?”

Kenobi gave him a droll look. “Yes, though only after a building fell on you.”

“I don’t think I would’ve been much help if – Hey! You’re wounded!”

“Well, that’s what happens when you try to keep collapsing buildings from squishing former Padawans.”

“How many padawans have you had, and why were they all inside the same collapsing building? You’re not a very good Master if you don’t teach them to get  _out_  of those.” Anakin shook his head and staggered. “Damn. Rex, help me out here.” Rex grinned and stood, only to be waved off. “No, I’m  _fine_ , I can stand and walk just fine. I mean help me argue with him!”

Rex sat back down with a shrug and larger grin. “Sorry General, no can do.” He got a sharp look, and his expression turned a little gentle. “Building fell on me too, so I don’t have much room to say anything.”

Anakin snorted, and Keno– and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I, however, have a great deal to say.  _You_  are going back to lie down, the nice med droid is going to sedate you,  _again_ , and this time–” He finally hauled Anakin away from the doorframe, ducking underneath the younger man’s arm to start carting him down the hallway. “–I’m going to insist Artoo keep an eye on you.” The door slid shut, muffling Obi-Wan’s words, though the long-suffering sigh was still quite audible. “And Artoo, you have my permission to use whatever means to keep him in bed if  _someone_ decides to be clever and speed the medication through his system. Tie him down, zap him, whatever.”

“Aww. Artoo, buddy, come on!”

The voices – and the droid’s snide warble in return – faded down the hall. Rex grinned and shook his head, turning back to the controls. They were in hyperspace by the time Obi-Wan walked back in, slumping down in the co-pilot’s seat.

After a companionable silence, Obi-Wan sighed. “You’d think that for someone who gets injured as much as he does, Anakin would be less loopy under sedatives.”

“I’m just glad he doesn't get that banged-up so often that he  _needs_  to get used to it.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, then hauled himself to his feet. He moved back to drape an arm around Rex, his hip to the seated man’s shoulder. Rex sighed lightly and leaned against the Jedi, enjoying the feel of Obi-Wan breathing; alive and solid and  _there_.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” Obi-Wan finally said, voice quiet and full of the emotions they didn’t talk about.

Rex smiled. “I was standing right next to Anakin. He was already looking up and reaching for the building.  _You_  are not blasterproof.” He shivered a little and wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Obi-Wan returned the smile, hand moving lightly on Rex’s shoulder. “Mutual.” He looked away quickly, both of them still a little unsettled by open intimacy. After staring out the front window for awhile, Obi-Wan breathed deep. “There is no death, there is only the Force,” he declared softly, as if reciting some profound truth.

Rex had heard this a few times, or at least variations, from various Jedi over the years. He’d never had the opportunity to find out what the hell it even  _meant_. “As one of the soldiers constantly facing death, that’s absolute shit.”

Obi-Wan’s face flickered with a swift grin. “It’s just a saying.”

“Explain?”

“We are all one with the Force after death.”

“Hm.” Rex stared out at the swirls of hyperspace, nodding thoughtfully. “Get to get together with old friends, hey?” That didn’t sound too bad. He liked the notion of a religion that had friends and brothers gathered together somewhere, time without fighting or missions, just...family.

“Well...” Obi-Wan shifted, looking awkward. At Rex’s curious look, he shrugged. “It’s not exactly like that. The Force is everywhere, the energy that binds the universe together. It’s a part of everything. It’s less like a cantina, and more like...being one with everything.”

Rex gave him a dubious look, then made a face. Fuck that. “I’m picking a different religion, thanks.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I can’t say I ever really agreed with the sentiments, honestly.” He stared at the wall contemplatively, eyes unfocused. “To be frank, I’ve hoped it’s rather different.” He finally seemed to notice the curious way Rex was watching him. He shook off the distant mood, looking back down at the other man. “If nothing else, there are... _countless_  things I’d like to say to Qui-Gon.” He had a faint, wry grin – the usual look he had when speaking of his old master. “And countless things I’d like the opportunity to yell at him, too.”

“Mm.” It was his turn to stare off at a wall. It snuck up on him sometimes. Obi-Wan was a _Jedi_. They had a strange, complex culture behind the lightsaber-wielding, Force-using front that most people saw. While he appreciated the general serenity and what bits and pieces of philosophy he could pick up from the Generals, he knew his understanding was piecemeal. The Kaminoans hadn’t thought to program lessons in Jedi culture or religion. He sometimes felt at a loss, unsure where he fit into Obi-Wan’s life. He  _did_  know enough to realize that their relationship wasn’t approved, and should not be happening.

For all that, Obi-Wan was doing it anyways, and welcomed them being more open. “What would he have thought of us?”

“He would approve, I’d like to think.” At Rex’s dubious look, Obi-Wan gave him one of the gentle smiles that melted right through him. “He had a habit of coming home with some pathetic, waifish lifeform draggling after him – for the record, I was one of them. Given his habits, I can’t see him looking askance at us. I think he would ask if we made each other happy.” He turned towards Rex, starting to lean down for a kiss until a wound must have complained too much. He hissed and shifted position a little instead. “Given that’s a resounding yes, then I’d like to think he’d be enthusiastically supportive.”

A part of him needed to ask. The rest was still a little terrified of the answer. “...and if he wasn’t?”

Obi-Wan’s expression became a little shadowed. “Then he’s not half the Master I remember him to be. Nor half the man.” Rex nodded, relieved but still chewing the notion over. He cuddled closer, pulling Obi-Wan round the front, their legs pressed together. The Jedi was almost straddling him, and while that was an intriguing possibility, he was wrestling with other matters. Obi-Wan’s hand was gentle against the stubble of his hair. “Why does it matter?”

Rex couldn’t bring himself to look at his lover, knowing that the mental turmoil was probably clear to the Jedi. “He’s important to you. Masters and students are close as Jedi get to brothers, family, and...that’s always important. You two practically share a name.” Sensing an odd stillness to Obi-Wan, he looked up. The Jedi was staring at him blankly. Rex rolled his eyes and straightened. Shoulders back, chin at a slightly imperious angle, eyes hooded. “Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service,” he drawled, a little flush working up his neck at what he  _knew_  was at best a middling imitation. “Yes, Qui-Gon Jinn’s student.” He relaxed into a more normal posture. “Every time you run into someone who might have known him, that comes out.”

Obi-Wan still looked thoroughly puzzled. “All right,” he declared slowly. “Family ties I understand, but that still doesn’t explain sharing a name. Familial names, you mean?”

Rex grunted and shrugged, glancing away from the sometimes too insightful gaze. “Family name, personal name – names are  _important_.” He took a breath, making himself meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. There were times when it was so damn  _hard_ , so bizarrely painful to open up about basic facts of life as a clone. “Some of my brothers, that’s all they have. A name, a way to modify our face, the – the  _self_  that people see. Millions of us, all different, all looking exactly alike. Our numbers,  _those_  are unique, but they’re assigned to us, and sometimes change with our rank. So the names we take on for ourselves...That’s  _us._ ”

Obi-Wan’s head tilted, the considering look growing thoughtful lines around the brows. His eyes flickered a bit, left and right to hunt down various pieces of some puzzle he was putting together. Then the Jedi snarled, hands clenching into fists as a black fury crossed his face. “That _bastard_.  _That’s_  why Fives was so incensed! That fucker  _knew_!”

Rex blinked, wondering what the hell his brother had done to piss off Kenobi this badly. “ _What_?”

The Jedi took several steadying breaths, almost visibly exhaling his anger. When most of the tension had left him, Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders. “Fives told me that Krell kept calling you by your number.”

“He kept addressing  _you_  without your title,” he responded blankly, a little confused by the topic change. “He was insulting everyone.”

Unfortunately, that only seemed to set Obi-Wan off again. “I don’t care about that—”

“I care more about what he  _did_ , not what he called us.” There was a long pause, the two men holding each other’s eyes. Rex did appreciate the indignation on his behalf – and his brothers’ as well, in the end – but their lives and sacrifices to that mad bastard mattered a whole lot more than any level of politeness. Obi-Wan finally bowed his head in acknowledgement – respectfully, not as a concession.  _Great, now that we have_ that _mess dealt with..._  Rex leaned back and crossed his arms. “Why the hell were you going through Fives to check up on me, anyways?” he grumped.

“Not you specifically.” Obi-Wan was already shaking his head, looking tired. “I wanted as many reports, first-hand accounts as fresh as possible, as quickly as I could. I talked to every member of Torrent, any involved parties, along with any nearby officer I could get my hands on before I came to spend time with you.”

“ _Why?_ ” Rex blurted out, remembering that horrible campaign far too clearly. After Dogma had dealt with the rogue General – he hated thinking of that  _chakaar_  as a Jedi – Rex had contacted the main forces. Obi-Wan, Cody, and several squads from the 212th had swept in, asking relentless, but gentle questions. When Rex’s stint with polite interrogation had ended, he’d gone to his quarters, and against all expectation fallen into exhausted sleep. He’d rightly assumed that Obi-Wan would be busy with the minutia of Jedi matters for some time. When Rex had been woken some hours later by a spent Jedi who wanted to make sure he really was in one piece, asking after the proceedings hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Obi-Wan’s look was a horrible mix of angry and grave. “Dogma killed his commanding officer. A  _clone_  killed a Jedi. I wanted there to be no doubt whatsoever that it was legitimate, and entirely deserved.” He glared away, muscles bunching underneath his beard. “To be entirely honest, it was the cleanest death that... _bastard_  could hope to see.”

They held their positions for a long moment, then Rex reached out to pull Obi-Wan close once more. “Back to death again. Let’s change the topic, please?” There were times when he was just so sick of death, of leaving brothers behind and never knowing when he’d see friends again. His Jedi smiled down at him, running a hand along his cheek.

“Gladly.” Obi-Wan moved smoothly to straddle Rex’s legs, almost sitting in Rex’s lap before leaning in for another kiss. This one was slow but heated, the Jedi possessive and teasing. By the time he pulled away, both of them were breathless and flushed.

“I know we said...more, but...” Rex hesitated, then glanced at the closed cockpit door. Beyond it, Anakin was sleeping the sleep of the heavily sedated, which would prevent another ill-timed interruption.Probably.

Obi-Wan smiled, one hand going from Rex’s pauldron to his face. “In the unlikely case Anakin stumbles on us, he’s proven incapable of remembering anything for more than ten minutes. Besides, do you really think he’d object?”

Rex hesitated a moment more, wondering yet again if Obi-Wan knew about Padme, or if he was simply being polite for plausible deniability. As always, he shrugged off the question as irrelevant. “Only to our location. And that he had to witness anything.”

Obi-Wan hummed amused agreement, moving to start unlatching the armor on Rex’s torso. They were a pleasant tangle of limbs for a while, Rex unwinding the Jedi’s sash as piece after piece of his armor were almost reverently removed. Belt, kama, pauldron. Obi-Wan’s sash and belt draped over the control yoke, the outer tunics placed on the scarred breastplate next to the pilot’s chair. They worked together on the gauntlets, using the opportunity for long, lingering touches as they cleared away each other’s armor. Rex was still sitting back, sliding the upper plates off his arms as Obi-Wan stood back, undertunics gaping open. The Jedi tilted his head to the side, narrow-eyed look of concentration at odds with the little smirk he had. He raised his hands a little, spreading them wide, and a little chorus of  _clicks_  signaled most of Rex’s armor lightly dropping to the floor.

Rex blinked down, then gave Obi-Wan a look. “You couldn’t do that sooner?”

He got the impish smirk that made his Jedi look years younger. “Why?” He stepped back over Rex’s legs, sliding forward and down even as he moved the groin plate away. He leaned in, nuzzling cheeks. “I like touching you.”

Rex had to acknowledge the point, turning his head to catch Obi-Wan in another kiss. This time, without their armor in the way, they were pressed up close, and he dared a small moan as Obi-Wan settled down fully into his lap. The weight tugged his undersuit tight, good cause for another quiet noise, even as the Jedi went flush against him. He could feel Obi-Wan’s cock against his stomach, already hard. Then the other man was reaching around him, nimble fingers teasing open the catches on Rex’s undersuit. There were plenty of extra little touches, brushes against his skin making him arc towards the man.

He’d  _missed_  this. It had been too damn long, ever more time between opportunities to be close. He pressed nearer to Obi-Wan, sliding his hands around and up the Jedi’s back. His fingers knew the way, following scars that mapped the path of the war along Obi-Wan’s skin. Rex was snugged up against Obi-Wan’s chest, curled with him, breathing him in and letting the sensations sink into his memory, another moment stolen from the war and absolutely  _theirs_.

His Jedi’s chuckle shivered through them both. “Since we seem to be making so many wise decisions here...” Obi-Wan pulled back slowly, tugging the opened undersuit along with him. Rex’s breath trembled out of him as the top was stripped away, but that was mostly about the Jedi before him. He couldn’t stop tracing the man’s trim lines, oddly lit by the blurs of hyperspace as Obi-Wan dropped the undersuit’s top, then turned to snag his belt and open one of the pouches. Rex’s eyes were riveted, even as he lifted his hips to tug his leggings off.

Obi-Wan had pulled a vial of oil from the belt pouch, and Rex hid a grin. Now was not the time to tease about how Obi-Wan would explain  _that_  to some curious idiot! Obi-Wan stood for a moment, vial in hand. Posed. Poised. Shirts open, contemplative – in so many ways, the visual epitome of a Jedi, considering his next move, evaluating.

Strong.

Rex could see the man underneath. The warmth, the worn lines around the eyes hinting that this poster-boy for the Jedi was also so very human, that the facade the Order supported and exploited for propaganda hid a far different being. He was a man hanging on to his ideals by his fingertips, taking measures to keep his soul from shattering into even smaller bits that he might well not be able to hold together.

At moments like this, it was easy to admit to himself that he loved this man.

Then the vial lifted up in the air, floating over to come to rest lightly in Rex’s palm. These little displays of the Force always sent a bolt of warmth flooding through him. He’d heard Obi-Wan lecture Anakin enough he could probably recite the Order’s views on frivolous use of the Force all by himself.

It was always a glorious shock that Obi-Wan thought that he, and their interactions, were not frivolous.

Rex flicked the container open, tilting oil over his fingers. Obi-Wan watched him with a smile, even as the Jedi turned his hands, the catches on his boots opening. By the time the Jedi had removed pants and boots, Rex had fingers and cock slicked up, and he was reaching for Obi-Wan. His Jedi was smiling, straddling his legs and using the Force to tug Rex’s hips forward.

Once Rex had resettled on the chair, he was running his fingertips up the inside of Obi-Wan’s thighs. The Jedi was already arching back a little, small shivers working through leg muscles as Rex brushed slick fingers against skin, his movements slow and deliberate. Sliding his fingers inside his Jedi, he got to both see and feel it as Obi-Wan let out a soft sound and  _relaxed_  as he so rarely did. Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped a little, his breathing deepening as he ran a gentle hand over Rex’s hair again. Then he braced himself, one hand on Rex’s shoulder, the other outstretched, curling and moving slow to use the Force, smoothing the oil along the seated man’s cock. Rex let out a soft hum, easing his fingers in and out in time with the Jedi’s movements.

They took their time, a rare indulgence. Rex didn’t often feel this gloriously hedonistic. He got to savor the view, the strong lines of Obi-Wan’s toned body arcing back above him. Obi-Wan’s eyes closed in pleasure, his head tilted back. Rex let out a small moan, and Obi-Wan’s eyes opened, locking on Rex with naked care and need. The Jedi’s tunics gaped open, rustling with every deep inhale or shaky breath out, brushing against Rex’s torso to make him twitch and gasp in return.

“Obi-Wan,” he finally murmured. A proclamation. A plea.  _Mine. Please!_

Obi-Wan had a rare smile, sweet and brilliant, that Rex never saw him give to others. It was a private thing, never shared in public, and it always drew at least a mental whimper of desire and adoration from him. The Jedi moved forward and down, sliding gentle and careful over his cock, taking him inside one slow centimeter at a time. Rex gripped the seat’s cushion hard as Obi-Wan settled almost onto his thighs, hands going to his shoulders. For a moment, his Jedi stayed curled over him, foreheads almost meeting as they adjusted to the feel. Rex leaned the last little bit together, breathing deep to pull Obi-Wan into him as many ways as possible. The mingled scents of bacta, tea, a hint of something electric all underwritten by  _Obi-Wan_  was heady as ever. His Jedi huffed a little laugh before kissing him again, and Rex’s world was this man filling his senses in all the best possible ways. Obi-Wan gently pulled back before he rose up, sliding back down smoothly with a soft groan that Rex could only echo. He brought a hand around to Obi-Wan’s front, grasping the man’s shaft and starting to stroke.

It was pleasure and quiet movements, letting sensation build slowly. Rex tried to let the moment wash over and through him, storing more sweet memories grasped out of the war. To have something like this, unhurried and rare, Obi-Wan using the Force to adjust their angle and keep Rex from tumbling to the floor, helping Obi-Wan rise and fall and curve around him –

It was more than worth having a building or two collapse on him. He was grinning at that, the raw pleasure of being alive rising up with the sensual pleasures of his lover riding him, as Obi-Wan nodded, head going back. The Jedi’s eyes closed, a faint hiss escaping him as his movements stuttered. He came a moment before Rex did, the two curling towards each other.

When the starbursts cleared from behind his eyes, they were clinging to each other, an absolute mess and he couldn’t have cared less. Obi-Wan shifted a little, trying to get comfortable as his legs started to obey him again, and Rex grinned. A swift, teasing kiss led to a nuzzle of cheeks. “Don’t suppose we’d dare to hit the ‘fresher together?” he asked, wistful but not sure he was quite that brave.

“There’s barely room for one in there, let alone two.” Obi-Wan sighed. He smiled back. “Next time?”

“Yes,” he groaned, trying to not imagine that in too much detail. He shook his head before cupping Obi-Wan’s elbows. The Jedi braced himself and stood, letting out a satisfied hiss and remaining close for a long, sweet moment. Rex grinned and patted his arm. “You go first. Generals should maintain some dignity.”

Obi-Wan snickered. “Unless they have medical excuses to act idiotic?” He smiled and ducked down for another kiss, then hurried out of the cockpit.

Rex settled back in the chair with a long, deep sigh, letting contentment and awe work its way through him. At times like this, more and more since Umbara he’d dared to wonder about...after. After the war, after the Seps and the clankers. He had no idea what would happen, and there were days when he was sure he wouldn’t live to see the next one – so far he’d been lucky.

At least he had a cornerstone. Rex knew, without any doubt, that no matter what happened, one thing was certain.

If any Jedi were to survive this war, it would be his Obi-Wan.

All else would take care of itself. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Dogmatix and Flamethrower for going the extra mile slogging through early drafts of questionable quality, then tons of support!


End file.
